Scrooged
by Chuckman
Summary: Hark, the herald angels sing...


Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Evangelion or its characters. I apologize for butchering Dickens.

Scrooged

* * *

><p>Gendo Ikari was a man of routines. On Wednesdays, his routine was simple. He would arise in the morning at five in the morning, having slept the night on a small cot in an alcove adjacent to his office, cleverly hidden by the black paneling of the walls and the overall lack of illumination. On this and every Wednesday he did just that, carefully trimmed his beard, and showered. The period from five in the morning to roughly six was devoted to reading the reports that piled up overnight in his electronic mailbox. He read those on a surprisingly pedestrian, featureless gray laptop he kept in the top drawer in the right hand side of his desk. He ran his hand through his still wet hair, wiped it on the back of his black jacket, and sat down. He opened the laptop and turned it on, and the desktop pattern was still the factory default.<p>

There were two hundred emails. He read and replied appropriately to each over a period of one hour and fifty-eight minutes, at which time his subordinate, Kozo Fuyutsuki, walked into his office without comment, immaculately polished shoes clicking on the immaculately polished floor. By the time he arrived, Gendo had already replaced the computer and, with a small cotton wipe, carefully polished the surface of the desk where it had rested until it held the same lustre as the desktop. He folded his hands in front of his face and leaned forward.

"Report," said Gendo.

Fuyutsuki cleared his throat. "The girl has begun attending school, as you instructed."

He nodded slightly from behind his hands. "Very good. The Second?"

"Will complete her university courses in the spring."

"How is her performance?"

"Dismal. We've told her she has the highest marks."

"Excellent," said Gendo.

A silence thick with words unsaid settled on them.

"Don't you think it's somewhat cruel," said Fuyutsuki.

"Yes," said Gendo," but necessary."

"When is the Third presumed to arrive, again?"

"The angel or the child?"

"Both, I suppose."

"August, and if and when we need him."

"I see."

Fuyutsuki stared at him for a moment, and then turned and left. Gendo then stood, adjusted his uniform, and walked out of the vast dark room with the Tree of Life etched on the roof and the quantum diagrams etched on the floor and opened yet another secret panel and there stepped into yet another hidden room, this one a much more utilitarian and unkempt office. Appearances had only so much utility, and he had phone calls to make, to be for money and supplies and government support. The unfortunate nature of his situation meant his backers, who could simply deliver all that he needed, could not appear to do just that, for fear of outing themselves and revealing their influence. The convenient fiction that the generals and government ministers he spoke to had any semblance of authority over him grated him and occupied the bulk of his time, for which he was thankful, as it kept his mind from the wait.

After ten years, it was only a few months longer. A few months until he rejoined his Yui, and the cruelties he inflicted on children and adults alike in service of his scenario were forgotten, water under the bridge. By the time he finished his daily round of phone calls and requests for reports, it was nearly time for dinner. He ate dinner each day at precisely six o'clock, and today he would eat dinner with Rei, as was his weekly custom. Some holiday or other disrupted his normal schedule, and his chef would be unavailable on Thursday and Friday. Given how retaining the man's services was something of a perk, Gendo decided that alienating him would be unnecessary.

When he emerged into his office, the knock came at the door, and he pressed a hidden switch under his desk to accept the crew of Section 2 agents who bustled in carrying a long table on their shoulders, rested it in the center of the large room, and with a flourish tossed an immaculately clean and pressed white table cloth over it. A moment later they escorted Rei in.

She bore a passing resemblance to the primary donor of her human genetic material. In time they would likely be twins, but, thankfully, Rei would not live that long, had no wish to, and would be supplanted by the real thing. Her presence as a child had annoyed him. Now that her hips were beginning to fill out and budding breasts poked her school uniform shirt away from her chest, her presence confused and disheartened him. He was not afraid that he would initiate something inappropriate with the child, but the more she came to resemble Yui, the more he found himself disturbed by her presence.

She was average height for her age, which put her nearly two feet beneath him, and precocious both in attitude and appearance, although her blessed inattention to matters of fashion and cosmetics lessened the effect, decreasing Gendo's distress and disheartening the pawing adolescent boys she was rapidly becoming surrounded by in middle school. She stared him, her face a mask of utter blankness, while the chairs were carried in, and when they were in place, sat down without being invited to do so.

A few moments later, the Section 2 men, now dressed as waiters, appeared in the office, carrying dishes of food. For Gendo, queen cut of prime rib, a baked potato and bread. For Rei, some repugnant vegetarian concoction, a glass of water and a plastic cup full of a dozen pills that kept her body from violently rejecting such vital organs as her kidneys and skin. When the "wait staff" pulled back to the periphery of the room, the pair began to eat, without ceremony, neither breaking the silence. The Commander ate in no hurry and neither did Rei, and when she finished first, she sat primly with her hands folded in her lap.

A Section 2 agent walked in. Held in both hands was a small box, covered in green paper tied off with red ribbon. He presented it to Gendo, who blinked at it. He pushed his glasses up his nose and took it in his hands.

"What is this?"

"It is a present," said Rei.

"Why?"

"Tomorrow is Christmas."

Gendo thrust it back into the agent's hands. "Get rid of that."

"Sir?"

"Now."

Rei blinked. Gendo leaned forward.

"You will not participate in such foolish rituals, do you understand?"

Rei cocked her head to the side. She seemed confused, more than anything. Her blank expression did not change, but if it were possible, the color drained from her face, and finally her eyes did narrow a bit. She resumed her posture without comment as the agent carried the box away, to be tossed in a dumpster somewhere. He sat up.

"You may go."

Rei stood up and walked out, her pace a little quicker than usual, but only incrementally so. Gendo stood up and walked out of the office, leaving the agents to clean up the faux restaurant. At some point he might take the girl to a real steakhouse, if he could find one that served something her peculiar eating habits would permit. Once he was outside the office, he punched a key on his cell phone.

"What?" Ritsuko Akagi said blearily on the other end.

"Tonight," he replied. "Fifteen minutes. Be ready."

He walked to his staff car, a long, heavily armored limousine that dragged itself around like a land-borne ship on wheels. The driver was a Section 2 agent whose name he couldn't remember, and he did not acknowledge the man except to bark the address at him before settling into the back of the limousine. The ride to Akagi's apartment took fifteen minutes. The head scientist of Project E greeted him in a cloying perfume and ridiculous negligee under a red silk robe. She rested her hand on the doorframe seductively and batted her eyelashes at him like a child that had broken into her mother's makeup drawer. Fifteen minutes later, he dressed and left a bitterly weeping Akagi seated on the edge of her bed, clutching her stomach and sobbing. Her theatrics annoyed him, but she served her purpose.

It was another short ride to headquarters. He returned to his office, sat down in his chair behind his big desk, and pulled out a bottle of cheap whiskey. He took his first pull on it without bothering with the tumbler, then filled the dirty glass as if he were drinking water and began sipping at it. After about fifteen minutes, the world was beginning to tilt lazily and he was into his second tall glass, and it didn't taste so bad anymore. He stood up, shakily, shoved the capped bottle back into the drawer, and left the glass sitting on the desk. He stumbled into his small alcove and fell across his cot, disdaining the removal of his glasses or showering to get the smell of Ritsuko off of him.

He woke to a curious clattering sound. Slowly, blearily, he sat up. He had to twist his glasses back into position, and leaned on the doorframe as he walked out into his office. Kozo Fuyutsuki was sitting in his high-backed chair, leaning on his desk. Gendo stumbled over to him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, slurring the words a little.

"Oh shut up," Fuyutsuki snapped.

Gendo blinked. His subordinate was dressed in his own nightclothes, a wifebeater and ducky boxer shorts. Gendo would have snorted derisively, except that he was covered in heavy chains that weighed on his flesh, digging into his sallow skin. The chains were linked to boxes and books and, oddly, computers and a lectern that had been dragged along the floor. The chains ran along the floor and through the door at the far side of the office. _Through _the door, which was closed.

Experimentally, Gendo passed a hand against Fuyutsuki's head. It passed through him, the only sensation associated with the touch a chilling cold that made him drawn his hand back. Fuyutsuki smirked at him, picked up the empty glass, and tapped it on the table.

Dumbly, Gendo opened the drawer, unscrewed the lid of the bottle, and poured out three fingers. Fuyutsuki lifted the glass and up-ended it down his throat. It splashed against the seat of the chair.

"It figures," he muttered.

"What… how…"

"I'm _dead_, you jackass," Fuyutsuki muttered, standing up.

The effort clearly weight on him. He faltered and nearly fell, and had to drag on the chains to get enough slack to stand. "I had a heart attack."

Gendo dropped the bottle. It hit his foot and rolled dully across the smooth floor, glug-glugging as it poured out its contents. He ignored it.

"What…"

"I _am __**dead**_," Fuyutsuki boomed, "And my time is limited. In life, I forged these chains," he rattled them for effect, "Link by link, yard by yard. Every foot of this chain is another opportunity lost, a punishment for the road not taken. I bear them for all eternity in remembrance of not saving Yui from you, you _monster._ I never should have bailed you out. I should have let you rot in prison. We would have all been better off."

"But-"

"I said shut up," Fuyutsuki growled. "It's your turn to listen to me, you conniving little bastard. You wear a set of chains of your own, heavier and thicker than mine, weighing down your very soul, and one day you will bear them in truth, _unless you change!_ You still have a chance to put things right, to escape my fate."

"Why bother?" Gendo said flatly. "You sound as if you think I deserve it."

"Oh, I do. But, I'm not here for you. I'm here for the Soryu girl and Rei and your _own son_, Rokubungi. If saving your rotten soul is what it takes to save them, it will be worth it."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"This night, you will be visited by three spirits. The ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future will come to you and reveal your wicked ways to you. I only hope they can sway you."

"Ridiculous," Gendo muttered, turning back to the alcove. "This is a dream. I ate a bit of spoiled potato, a bit of turned meat."

Fuyutsuki laughed at him. "We'll see, Bastard King, we'll see."

"What did you call me?"

"That's your nickname among the techs, you know. They call you the Bastard King."

Gendo waved his hand dismissively and trudged back to the cot, his head suddenly clear. He sprawled face down, his head turned away from the clanking, rattling ghost in the office.

"Go away," he muttered.

"Expect the first spirit when the clock tolls one."

Gendo forced his eyes shut, and sleep took him, the heavy yet light sleep brought on by overindulgence. He had just begun to snore, and was somehow aware of it, when _Hit Me Baby One More Time_ began blasting in his ears. Furiously, he jerked up from the cot and slammed his hand down on the small alarm clock by his bed. He growled something incoherent and looked at the clock.

It was one in the morning.

He felt a presence, and slowly turned to the office. Standing in the door to his small quarters was a four year old Rei Ayanami, dressed in a white nightgown and long cap. She grinned malevolently at him, her red eyes empty of pity.

"Hello, Bastard King."

* * *

><p>Gendo stared at her in disbelief, as if he could will her away by refusing to believe she occupied the space on the floor in his office. She padded over to him on bare feet and poked his arm. It certainly felt real, and slightly painful. Her red irises bored into his own until he sat up, groggily.<p>

"What do you want?"

"I am the Spirit of Christmas Past," she said in her high-pitched toddler's voice, eerily composed. "I come to show you images of times past, so that you might remember."

"Why do you look like that?"

She favored him with a tight lipped, slightly malevolent grin.

"If you say you're appearing in a form I can more easily understand-"

"No," the spirit shook her head. "I'm doing it to annoy you. Asshole."

Gendo blinked.

"Get up," the girl said, and padded back out into the office.

"No," he said, and rolled back over.

He jumped and, to his surprise, screamed when she was already on the other side of the bed. She rested her hand on the alarm clock, and it began screeching out Britney Spears again. He fumbled at it, but it continued to play even when he hit the snooze button. He hit the alarm switch and when that failed, yanked it from the wall, and yet it continued to play. In a rage, he slammed it against the wall, and still the speaker continued to blare annoying generic pop music, distorted and tinny.

"Damn it!"

He snapped.

"Yup," said the spirit. "Now, let's go."

"Go where?"

"You have but to take my hand."

She thrust out her tiny limb. When he stood, he had to stop to touch her palm. Her small fingers closed around his thumb, and she smiled warmly.

He stood up with a jerk. The air temperature and pressure changed. He looked around in a panic, and suddenly realized where he was. He was standing in front of the white board in Kozo Fuyutsuki's classroom. Smells of markers and musty books and janitorial supplies assaulted his senses, accompanied by the aroma of liquors and cheeses and microwaved dishes. He whirled, and saw a long table set out behind him, adorned with a veritable feast of low quality food, all manner of popcorn and store bought snacks and nachos and cheese, and bottles of cheap liquor and cans of beer.

And Yui.

_Yui._

He ran to her, arms held out, only to find himself rushing through cold, empty air, his arms locked around nothing. In a panic, he whirled. Yui stood, laughing and ignoring him. She was surrounded by Kozo Fuyutsuki and a dozen old friends, all students, all so painfully young. He stared in shock for a moment.

"Yui?"

"These are but a shade of what has been," said the spirit, walking over to his side. "They cannot see or hear you."

"And where is that new boyfriend of yours?" said Fuyutsuki.

"Oh, at home, studying," Yui chirped, and then sipped from a beer. "You know how he is."

"I wonder, sometimes," Fuyutsuki slurred. He was obviously drunk, and his eyes kept drifting to the open top of Yui's blouse. "What do you see in him?"

Yui smiled warmly, a hint of awareness in her green eyes. "He shows me a side few other see."

Fuyutsuki touched her arm and laughed. "I'm sure you could bring that out in anyone."

Yui blushed, and turned from him. Fuyutsuki slumped visibly, and turned to mingle with the other students.

"He loved her," said the spirit. "Far more deeply than you."

"You lie," Gendo said harshly, ripping his hand away from the malignant little creature. She grinned at him, crimson eyes flashing.

"He was here with her, while you were at home poring over books. Not to further the knowledge of mankind, but to serve your own ends. Your own power."

"You're wrong," Gendo said harshly, crossing his arms. "I would give anything…"

"To have her back?" the spirit mocked him. "Kozo would do anything to bring her back to you, if only to see her smile. It was enough that she was happy, even if with someone else. Could you say the same?"

"No," Gendo snapped, "and I don't have to. She was my star, my shining jewel, and-"

"And what did you do for _her son?"_

"That… I had to send him away. Why am I telling you this, you foul little thing? Leave me alone."

"No," said the spirit, and grabbed his hand.

The world changed, shifted. He found himself standing in a tiny room, barely more than a closet. Curled on a small mat, sleeping against the wall, was his son, small and dwarfed even by the tiny bedroom, curled on himself and weeping bitterly.

"This is the first Christmas that Shinji will ever remember," said the spirit. "The man you sent him away to live with does not keep the holiday."

In the dark, Shinji whispered, "Why, Father? Why?"

"Why?" the spirit repeated.

"I would only have hurt him!"

"Would you? Why? Because she loved him, and not you? Because she sacrificed herself for a better world for _him_, and not you? Because it was him she clasped to her breast, not you? Because you were afraid of sharing her?"

The accusation hung in the air, punctuated by crimson eyes. Gendo shuddered in the darkness, but not from the cold. There was no winter in Japan anymore.

"You call this keeping him from harm?"

"Take me back to my bed," he snapped. "You will do nothing to convince me with your inane mewlings."

The spirit's cruel smile crept once again across her tiny face. "We're not done."

The world shifted again, and he stood in an expansive room, ancient and paneled in wood, the estate of a wealthy family. The spines of books on the far wall in German told him where he was. In the corner was a mighty Christmas tree, beautifully adorned with real candles and colored glass orbs. Spread out beneath it were presents and gifts in a dozen multicolored wrappings. Snow frosted against the windows and flurried outside in the darkness. It was all perfect, except for the lone figure in the room, a tall, thin man with red hair seated on the couch in his pajamas, a glass of liquor in hand.

"This is Langley," the spirit gestured at him. "His daughter, the only pieces of his Kyoko he has left, loathes him, and he deserves it. Because if you, Ikari. Because of your mad experiments and your grasping for power."

Gendo watched the man's empty, bitter blue eyes as he took a sip, and saw something reflected in them, and was unsure whether it was within the man himself, or the image of Gendo superimposed on his pupils. He turned away. The spirit was there, wherever he turned his gaze.

"We are not finished here. Follow me."

The spirit turned and walked, and Gendo followed her, sure he would be dragged along if he refused. The tiny Rei walked up a flight of stairs and down a long corridor, and at the end of it, found a large, overly decorated bedroom. Seated on a bed in the center of the room was a tiny girl, slightly older perhaps than the form chosen by the spirit. She was poring over some book, her faze frozen in concentration.

"For her, there is no Christmas," said the spirit. "Not since her Mama went away. She looks like a child, but she is neither child, nor adult, but something between, forced to endure the cruel mockeries of both. In time, her father will give up on her, and turn his attentions to his new wife and new son, and she will live with a succession of guardians, all of whom will abandon her, for she is incorrigible."

"So?" said Gendo. "Her weakness is not my-"

"Weakness?" the spirit snapped, "Weakness? She's _five, _Gendo. She's a child. Yet she will suffer eternally for your mad dreams. You gladly execute the plans of a death cult of moldy old men, ruin this human being's psyche to make her a better tool, a _backup_ if your son proves insufficient."

"Suffer eternally?" said Gendo. "What the hell are you talking about?"

A soft hint of a smile crept across her face. "You'll see. The next spirit will seek you when the clock tolls two."

* * *

><p>Blinking the tiredness away from his eyes, Gendo smelled the liquor on his own breath and and quailed, his stomach rolling. He clenched his teeth and forced the acid tasting bile back down his throat, suddenly regretting every drop. In the darkened room, he choked out a laugh that burned his dry throat. It was just a dream, after all. A peculiar nightmare, but he was no stranger to an unsound sleep. He rolled over and saw the shattered remains of his alarm clock just as they began to blare <em>White Christmas<em>.

Gendo Ikari screamed.

He sat bolt upright, and gazed out into the office. In the strange half-light projected by the false night sky of the Geofront, Rei Ayanami sat on his desk in her school uniform, the gift she'd presented to him earlier clutched between her hands. She lightly dropped to the floor, her hair bouncing slightly, and walked into the room, her polished shoes clack-clacking.

"You should be in your apartment."

Rei smiled softly. "I am not Rei Ayanami. I am the Spirit of Christmas Present, and I have come to-"

"Yes, yes, I know," Gendo waved a hand, dismissively. "You're here to moralize about the cruel unchanging facts of the world, and try to convince me I'm responsible. We may as well get this over with."

"Your cooperation is helpful," said the spirit, "but not required."

She grabbed his hand and yanked him out of the bed, and he was standing in Rei's own dingy apartment. The spirit stood beside him, the present folded under her arm, and the true Rei sat on the bed, lit only by the moonlight. He dingy bed was unmade, and she was still in her school uniform, contemplating her folded hands. Gendo reached out to touch her, and again he felt only cool air on his skin.

"What is this…"

"Now, it is we who are but shades," said the spirit. "She cannot see or hear us."

"Why are we here?"

"Isn't it obvious? She mourns."

"Mourns what?"

"Her only chance at being human," said the spirit, sitting beside her. The bizarre image of the twinned Rei nagged at him. "She mourns because some part of her understands that she should be loved, not as a man loves a woman, but as a father loves his daughter. There is a hole in her heart where the affection she should feel for you was torn away when you discarded her gift. She wanted only for you to smile, to show her some affection, though she knows not why."

Gendo paled. "Are you saying she is disloyal? The scenario…"

The spirit-Rei stood up, scrowled, and hauled off and slapped him across the face. He reeled, touching his stinging cheek, reddened by the surprisingly sharp blow. He stared at her in open mouthed shock for a moment.

"_She is your daughter_," the spirit snapped. "Many in the world would die for the gift you have, the gift you discard in hope of reclaiming another, the thinnest hope."

"I can't…"

"What's your excuse this time?" the spirit demanded, drawing closer. "Are you afraid that as she grows older, you will forget the difference between her scent and Yui's? That one day you'll rest your hand on her hips and they'll be your wife's again, and you won't be able to stop yourself? Is that it?"

"No!" Gendo protested. "I would never! She…"

"If it's a boy," the spirit mocked him, _"Shinji._ If it's a girl, **Rei.**"

Gendo took a step back, and found himself pressed against the dingy wall of the tiny apartment, cold water dripping into his hair from above. He looked up at the stained concrete and shuddered.

"So what is she?" said the spirit. "If not a surrogate daughter, the surrogate wife? Oh, no, I see. That isn't good enough. You have a better use for her, even than _that." _

Gendo returned her slap, and his hand passed through empty, cool air. The sprit smirked, red eyes deepening somehow, heavy with contempt.

"That," said Gendo, "Is incredibly unfair."

The spirit's eyes burned. She stepped ever closer. "It's not good enough that she serve you utterly. The thought that she might learn to live, to be a _person_, terrifies you. There is yet hope. Some part knows that keeping this beautiful child a prisoner in her own skin while you wait for her to kill herself to serve you is wrong," the spirit shrugged, "or you wouldn't indulge silly dinners with her. Why not just keep her in a tube in Terminal Dogma all the time, Rokubungi? Why do you torture your tool with these pretensions of humanity?"

Gendo slid down the wall, clutching his hands to the side of his head. "Shut up!"

The spirit crouched next to him. "When Yui comes back," it whispered in his ear, "Will you keep her in a bottle, too?"

"I said _shut up!" _

He opened his eyes. He was in Ritsuko's apartment. He stood up slowly, and wandered to the side of the bed where Ritsuko lay. She was still clad in her disheveled robe and torn nightgown. She lay face up on her narrow bed, her vacant eyes staring at the ceiling. Her mascara had run, etching the tears on her face. One thin strand of black, sooty makeup flowed over and around her beauty mark.

"Those with a mole along the path of tears are destined to live a life full of them," said the spirit.

Slowly, Ritsuko raised a compact pistol, opened her mouth, and angled it in, aimed at the top of her head. She held it there for a moment, then suddenly withdrew it and slammed it into the bed, and at the same moment, curled on herself and shook with a sudden, anguished sob that was half a scream. She rolled and buried her face in the pillow, her sobs so intense they may as well have been sharp, painful coughs. She grabbed the pillow and half hugged, half choked it to her midsection, her sobs diminishing into low gurgles. In time, her breathing softened further, and she fell asleep with the lights on.

"Would it hurt you so much to stay," said the spirit. "Would it hurt you so much to be gentle? To care for her? To not use her the way you used her mother? Will you murder her, too? Whose hand will it be that pulls the trigger on that gun, hers… or yours?"

Gendo turned around, angrily. "I don't want to see any more of this."

The spirit, of course, was already there. "Then stop it. You alone have the power to end her suffering."

"She means nothing to me," he growled. "There is only Yui."

"Yui is dead," the spirit said flatly. "She is here, and she cares for you."

"She cares for her position," said Gendo. "She thinks she can sleep her way into-"

The spirit's eyes narrowed. "Please."

He glanced back over his shoulder. "Get me out of here."

The spirit smiled a thin smile, and the scene shifted. He was again standing in the small room. Shinji sat before him, his son, a blank expression on his face, sawing at a cello. Gendo listened for a moment, studying his moonlit movements as he painfully fumbled through some old composition.

"He's terrible," said Gendo.

"His last lesson was years ago. He repeats it endlessly, never improving, never innovating, because no one told him to stop. The old man who cares for him, if you can call it that, is nearly deaf now."

"He looks fine to me."

"He is not," said the spirit. "It would be better if he wept, if he craved attention. In a few months he will tell the alcoholic you foist him off on to be raised that he prefers to be alone, because when he is alone, it is always the same."

"So?"

"So," the spirit said, "in his mind, he does not know the difference. In his heart, he knows. He knows that he should be loved by a father and held by a mother, that in the next few months he should be taking the first few steps into the arms of a girl his age, feeling the keen sting of young love, learning the lessons of hope and heartache that await mankind along the path of adulthood. In his mind, he knows there is only emptiness, only meaningless action without import, and his heart aches for it. His tragedy is that he does not know he should be weeping."

"What do you mean, he will never…"

"That is not for me," said the spirit, "but for the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come, who will seek you when the clock tolls three. But first, one last truth to show you."

Gendo turned to her slowly, and she raised her skirts. Clinging to her pale legs were a scraggly, ill-fed boy, and a wan, sallow girl with sunken eyes.

"Who are they?" said Gendo.

"This boy is expedience," said the spirit, "and this girl is indifference. Beware them both, Gendo Ikari, beware them both, but fear this girl most of all. Sometimes, we don't know what we have until we throw it away."

* * *

><p>Gendo sat up in bed and waited for the music. The bent speaker angrily chirped on cue, as the broken screen ticked over to three, zero, zero. <em>Whoa children<em>, it sang, _it's just a shout away_. He swiveled his head and standing in his office was a figure in a jet black robe, female, perhaps, and slight, her face hidden within the deep cavern of her hood. Only her hands were visible, flawlessly pale and white, and gently aglow with their own radiance. The spirit regarded him silently.

"I suppose you are the spirit of Christmas Yet to Come," said Gendo, "the one the others foretold."

The spirit remained silent, unmoving.

"Are you trying to unnerve me? It won't work."

Still, he was met with silence. Slowly, he rolled of the cot and stood up, and in his socks walked over to her. He stood there for a while, trying to peer into her hood. He took his finger and tried to nudge the hem backwards, but, of course, passed through it, his fingertip suddenly frigid. He reached down and took the spirit's hand.

"Let's get this over with."

The scene changed. He was standing in an apartment. It was the generic sort, the same type as filled hundreds of apartment blocks around the city. A woman he didn't recognize was seated in the living room on the couch, weeping. She was beautiful in her way, despite her sallow skin and disheveled raven tresses and the piles of beer cans and liquor bottles around her. She clutched her legs to her chest like a little girl and sobbed, clasping a telephone in one hand.

The spirit said nothing, but gestured to her.

"I don't know her. Why am I here?"

The spirit looked at him, and then the hood turned down the hall.

He walked across the carpeting. There were two bedrooms, although one was more properly a closet. The larger was filled with unopened boxes and fashion magazines and clothing and airy white underwear and barely-more-than-training-bras and containers for overused makeup and all the other detritus that appears in the wake of a teenaged girl. A pair of red nerve clips and a hairbrush loaded with red strands told him all he needed to know.

"The second," he said. "Where is she?"

The spirit remained impassive, and glanced into Shinji's room.

There his son sat, curled against the wall, staring off into space, a distant look in his eyes. He looked through Gendo, gazing at the room opposite his, but said nothing, made no move. Sometimes, a particularly loud sob from the living room drew a slight inclination of his head, but it returned to true moments later, and his eyes became distant and unfocused, staring into nothing.

"Where is the second?"

The spirit gestured, and turned, and walked. Gendo followed, passing through the door of the apartment, a strange rush of air across his skin. Followed the spirit down the stairs and gazed into the sky as they walked outside. The air was dead, bereft even of the unending drone of cicadas, and there was smoke rising in the distance. The city center was a ruin, and he saw…

He saw the charred remnants of Unit Zero standing in the distance, ankle-deep in water.

"Rei," he whispered…

The spirit tugged on his sleeve, and he followed her. She walked up a flight of stairs in an abandoned building not far from where Rei herself lived, emphasis on the past tense. He swallowed as he walked into a dingy apartment. The side wall was blown out, and only the bathroom was intact. He heard soft breathing from inside.

The Second Child lay in a dingy bathtub, the features of her naked body obscured by rust and, he thought, thin streams of blood. She stared off into space, and to see her, he winced. Her cheeks were dawn in and her skin was pale and thin-looking, like old parchment. In the blurr of the tainted bath he could see her ribs poking through her skin, the outlines of her hip bones as if she had simply laid down here and waited to die.

He turned to the spirit.

"Where is her security detail? Why has no one taken her to the infirmary? The scenario is almost over by now, she is no longer needed. She should be being readied for transfer back to Germany."

The spirit ignored him, gazing into the pool of fouled water and the naked girl within it. Slowly, Gendo turned and ran, but before he reached the door, the spirit caught the collar of his shirt and he stumbled across smooth stones. The smell of LCL, no, the stench of it, assaulted his nostrils. He turned and he saw himself, standing in front of Ritsuko Akagi, who stood in front of the distant, soft form of Lilith, fixed to the great iron cross. Beside him stood Rei, naked as they day she was born… or rather, grown, though she'd lost an arm, which lay at her feet. Ritsuko was pointing a gun, that gun, at him, or at the other him, her face a twisted mask of rage.

"Ritsuko Akagi," the other him said, "The truth is, I truly did love you."

"Heh, you liar."

It was a lie. It was also enough time for him to pull out a gun and shoot her. The shot rang out in the vast space, and she fell over backwards and plunged into the LCL sea with a splash, her being ended, her face slack in death.

He stared at himself and shivered.

"The scenario," he said, "The scenario, it's all worth it if…"

The spirit tugged on his sleeve, and he heard screaming, the most brutal screaming, and found himself kneeling in sand, staring down at the white grains. He saw the hem of the spirit's robe beside him, and her bare white feet, and followed her up. The sea, the sea lapped at the shore where there was no shore, and the sea was as blood. He looked up and saw the sky as red as the sea, as red as fresh gore, and swiveled his head around in torment. Gazing at him in the distance was the enormous, cyclopean head of Rei Ayanami, hazed red by the tainted atmosphere. Above him floated grotesqueries, mockeries of Evas in stone with the faces of beautific copies of Rei, cruciform and impaled on false Lances. Slowly, he stood up.

He saw two distant figures on the beach, lying beside one another. He slowly stumbled over to them, and saw his son in his school uniform as he slowly sit up and looked at the figure beside him. The figure beside him was the second, clad in bandages and the remnants of her plugsuit, the sleeves and back cut away. She lay face up, staring blankly into the bleeding sky. Gendo watched as his son slowly worked his way atop the girl, straddling her, and slid his fingers around her throat.

He squeezed.

"No!" he shouted, "Stop!"

He squeezed, and the girl shook, trying to cough but unable to force out a sound. Slowly, haltingly, she reached up and with her bandaged hand ghosted her fingertips down the line of his jaw, as gentle as a lover. His eyes widened further and his grip slackened. He stared down at her, hands poised to crush her throat, and a tiny sob wracked his body, shaking itself out through his nostrils. Tears fell across the girl's cheeks like rain, and he fell into her chest, sobbing.

"You make me sick," she whispered.

Gendo sank to his knees.

"God," he said, "this isn't right, this can't be right, this wasn't supposed to happen…"

He reached out for the spirit. "What happened? What is this? Am I with Yui?"

The spirit regarded him impassively, and turned back to the weeping boy and the crippled girl. Slowly, she shifted her weight until he fell on his side and achingly stood up, grunting with the effort. She was shaky on her feet and winced, almost turning her ankle as she walked away from him.

"Don't you ever touch me again," she hissed. "I hate you."

Gendo stared at her as she walked towards him, drawing closer and closer, until with a gust of ghostly wind she passed through him and he fell onto the sands. Shinji remained curled in a ball, weeping, begging silently for the girl, maybe for someone else, to please come back.

"What is this?" Gendo demanded. "What _is _this?"

The spirit spoke to him for the first and only time, its ghostly whisper like the wind through an ancient tree standing sentinel over graveyard stones.

"The Scenario," she whispered.

* * *

><p>Gendo awoke in a cold sweat, and swallowed, hard. His head hurt, and there was dried, crusted blood on his cheek. He touched his forehead and found sticky dried blood there, powdery like rust. He sat up and saw that he'd fallen off his chair somehow, tripped on the spilled liquor on the floor. The glass was still resting on the desk. Slowly, achy and hurting from the blow to his head and a monstrous hangover that wanted to squeeze his eyeballs out of their sockets, he walked over and sat down on his bed. His alarm clock was intact.<p>

It was a dream. A cruel dream, yes, but a dream. He'd had worse. He laid down on the bed and resolved not to do any work today. It was Christmas, after all, and everyone was off. As he lay down, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number.

"Ikari?" Fuyutsuki said, his voice thick with fatigue.

"Wrong number," said Gendo, and rested the phone against his chest, closing the connection. He lay there for a while, and then his eyes drifted to the side and slid across his office chair. On that chair was the small form of a package covered in green paper, tied with red ribbon. His throat tightened. He had disposed of the box, thrown it away. It was gone. It could not possibly be on the chair. It simply was not possible.

Unless.

Slowly, he stood up, walked to the chair, and picked up the box. It was amateurishly wrapped, he noticed, the paper too thick in places and too thin in others, exposing the cardboard beneath. He turned it over until he could work a finger under the paper, and slowly, carefully unwrapped it, and discarded the paper on the desk. Shaking, he pulled the top loose, and found folded tissue paper inside. He picked up the small parcel, dropping the box, and unfolded it in his hands. Resting on his palms were a pair of cheap cufflinks. It was a gift, purchased by someone who didn't understand that he didn't wear French cuffed shirts, who probably haltingly and quietly asked an unnerved shop clerk what an appropriate gift was from a daughter to her father and emptied her pockets to pay for it. Shaking, his clenched his hands around his daughter's Christmas gift.

There was something else in the box. He knelt, shaking, and had a hard time picking up, his hands were quivering so badly. Inside was a thin scrap of paper. In a neat, elegant hand, were written four simple words.

_It wasn't a dream. _

He dropped the box, stumbled back to his cold little cot, and sat down.

He opened up his phone. He dialed the number for Section 2.

"Get me a razor," he said, "and some shaving cream. Now."

"But-"

"_Now."_

* * *

><p>Ritsuko Akagi awoke, wincing as she peeled her mascara-stained face away from her ruined pillow, to the sound of pounding on her door. Blearily, she stood up, unsteady on her feet. She kicked her sheets over the gun on the bed and padded to the door in her bare feet, realized how she looked, and belted her robe closed around her body. She drew in a breath, wiped at her cheeks, and opened the door.<p>

Gendo was standing outside. He'd _shaved._

She blinked.

"W-what do you want?" she said, her words thick from her dry mouth.

"You," he said, and pushed his way in.

He put an arm around her waist, used his foot to gently nudge her feet out from under her, and dipper her, like they were dancing. He touched his lips to hers, gently at first, as if exploring, and when she responded the kiss deepened, and she wasn't sure if he was still holding her up or she was falling. She sucked in a shocked breath when he broke from it and pulled her to her feet and embraced her, snaking his arms around her back and her neck, pressing her face into his neck.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words strange, unfamiliar from his tongue. "I didn't know. I thought… I don't know."

"What?" she demanded, pushing back from him. "What is this? What are you doing here?"

"It's Christmas!" he announced, his voice ringing with manic glee. "I brought my girlfriend a present!"

She took a step back, wondering if she should go for her gun. He pulled something out of his pocket, a small, round object, and handed it to her. It was wrapped in white printer paper, taped with scotch tape. She took it, felt the weight of it, and looked at him.

"What the hell is this?"

"It's your present. Merry Christmas."

She picked at the edges of the paper, careful to avoid cutting herself, and tore it away until there was a clean circle of glass resting in her hands. She snorted.

"It's an ashtray. Wait, this is _my _ashtray."

"It's the thought that counts," he shrugged. "I'll get you something better later, I promise."

She stared at him in silence.

"I washed it."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"No," he said softly. "Get cleaned up, and get dressed. We need to go pick up my daughter, and my son."

"Your _what?"_

"On second thought," he said amorously, "I'll shower with you."

* * *

><p>Rei was sitting on her bed staring at the floor when she heard the knock. She looked at the door, but ignored the sound, and continued her contemplations. She did not understand why the Commander rejected her gift. Was it inappropriate? Was he upset because he had none to give her? Why did he reject the idea of observing a holiday?<p>

She swallowed her morning load of pills with a flask of rusty tasting tap water and a gulp, and decided to lay down. The Commander chose that moment to burst into the room, dragging Doctor Akagi behind him. Rei sat up, confused. Was she in some sort of danger? Why had he brought her physician? Why was he wearing that?

The Commander wore his customary black pants, and a crisp white shirt, still creased from the packaging. Akagi had an odd look on her face, and was clutching something to her chest. The Commander held up his wrists, and her eyes widened slightly. He was wearing her present. That was not possible. He had discarded it. Why was he wearing the cufflinks? Was this some part of the tradition that she did not understand?

He scooped whatever it was Akagi held from her hands. She was wearing a sweater and a skirt, and looked disoriented. Her hair was wet. Rei cocked her head to the side and looked at her for a moment, then gazed into the beady eyes of the small, furry creature that the Commander held out for her.

"What is that?"

"It's a kitten."

"What is it for?"

"It's your Christmas present, Rei."

She blinked. "What do I do with it?

He sat down beside her, transferred the animal to her lap, and curled her arm around it. "Hold it like this. Now, pet it."

She stared at him blankly. He stroked the back of the animal's neck and scratched at its ears with his fingertips. It made a small, appreciative sound. She took over the motion and stroked the animal's back, and it nuzzled its head into her.

"Thank you, Commander."

"Dad."

"What?"

"Call me 'Dad', from now on."

"Is that an order?"

"Order? No more orders, Rei," he smiled. "From now on, you do what you want."

What he did next shocked her. He embraced her. Her eyes widened and she instinctively clutched the kitten to her chest. It licked at her chin and she made a small, shocked sound that was between a gasp and a yelp. The Comm- Dad burst out laughing. He laughed for a good minute, the sound alien from him, but surprisingly comforting.

"Come on," he said, rising. "We need to get you something else to wear, and we need to buy presents. We're going to pick up your brother."

She tilted her head to the side. "I do not have a brother."

"Yes, you do. His name is Shinji. You've never met him."

She blinked. "I do not understand."

"You will," he said. He motioned for her to follow. "Come on."

* * *

><p>Shinji repeated the chords as he had a thousand times, running the bow over the strings as he worked his fingers, letting himself drift in the music. He would practice for exactly one hour, and then spend the rest of his day off lying on his futon, listening to more music on his S-Dat. It was only because he had not yet inserted his ear buds that he heard the commotion downstairs, stopped playing, and after resting the bow against the wall of his tiny room, walked down the narrow stairs into the front room of the little house he shared with his teacher.<p>

The old man was seated in the kitchen. With him was a tall, busty, attractive blonde woman, a pale, waifish albino girl that looked oddly familiar, and his father. Was this some kind of a joke?

"There he is!" his father boomed.

He walked over to Shinji, who stared at him openly, and clasped him on both arms.

"It's been a while!"

Shinji's jaw dropped.

"Look, son," his father said quietly, "There's nothing I can do that will make up for abandoning you the way I did. All I ask is that you give me another chance. I'd like you to come to Tokyo-3 to live with me, and your sister, and my girlfriend."

"Sister?" said Shinji. "Live? With you? What?"

"You don't have to," he said guardedly. "If you don't want to, I'll understand. I'm asking, not ordering. If you don't want to come with us, tell me where you want to go and what you want to do, and I'll make it happen."

Shinji's jaw worked silently. His eyes widened.

"Don't make up your mind, yet. Rei, come here please."

The pale girl walked over to him, looking at him as if he were some sort of alien creature. She bowed slightly, never taking her eyes off of him.

"This is your sister, Rei. You've never met before. I'd like you to come with me, Shinji. I need you. She needs you. There are things I need to ask you to do, but it's not fair to treat you like a stranger. It's important, son. I know I've hurt you. I want to make it right."

He closed his mouth and stared for a moment, his eyes flicking from the girl to his father and back again. He nodded slowly.

"Good!" said Gendo. He turned to the old man. "Old man, you're fired."

"Good," the old teacher muttered, and turned back to his paper.

Shinji looked up at Ritsuko. "Are you… are you my mom now?"

She looked at him, wide-eyed, and then at Gendo, her mouth hanging open.

Gendo nudged him with his elbow. "Forgive him, Ritsuko. He's confused."

She nodded, looking quite confused herself.

"Well," he said, "let's go. The car's outside. We have a lot to do, and so much to plan."

"Plan?" said Shinji.

"Of course!" said Gendo. "We only have a year until next Christmas!"

* * *

><p><em>One Year Later<em>

The party was over, and the partiers were strewn about, like wreckage after a battle. Misato Katusragi was foremost among them, having consumed a truly monumental amount of alcohol. She lay on the couch, passed out, Ryoji Kaji rather indecently sprawled on top of her, his face buried in her impressive chest. Gendo would have to rib them about that in the morning. The bridge technicians were all lying on the floor, Makoto Hyuga's head resting in Shigeru Aoba's lap, while Rei's cat, the aptly named "Cat", lay curled up with Maya Ibuki.

It was with some sadness that Gendo observed them. This would be their first, last, and only Christmas together, or so he worried. They felt like a family sometimes, but with Nerv disbanding after Seele's exposure to the United Nations and the Japanese Government by a certain drunken spy who currently lay with his face buried between the Operations Director's breasts. There would be no perks of being the Commander, only the modest life of a scientist and his wife, teaching at university.

Ritsuko sidled up next to him. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her into an embrace, and kissed her. She pulled back, blushing as ever.

"I've always wondered. Is that how you kissed her?"

"No," he whispered, "that's how I kiss you. Now be quiet, the Scenario depends on it."

Curious, she turned and looked over the back of the couch.

Asuka was lying next to Shinji, staring at the ceiling. She nudged him with her elbow, and he stirred from his sleep and rolled over. He looked at her with wide eyes, like he'd never seen her before. She turned to him slowly, and then looked back up at the ceiling.

"Do you know what that is?"

"What?"

"What are you," she growled, "Stupid? It's mistletoe!"

"So?"

"So, don't you know what mistletoe means?"

"No," he said, his voice wavering.

"It means," she grinned, "this."

On her elbows, Asuka nudged closer to Shinji, rested her head next to hers, and kissed him. Both their eyes closed for a moment, and when they separated, both drew in a sharp breath. Shinji was blushing furiously, while Asuka had a sly, almost predatory look on her face.

Leaning on the couch, Gendo, Ritsuko, and Rei steepled their fingers in front of their faces.

"Just as planned," said Gendo.

The End.


End file.
